


Mess Up My Room And Proceed To Tempt Me

by MissMoochy



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Insecure Wade Wilson, M/M, POV Peter Parker, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24947059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoochy/pseuds/MissMoochy
Summary: Spider-Man hates how flustered he gets when Deadpool flirts with him during patrol. But after a chance meeting in town, he realises that Wade is actually adorably shy and tongue-tied when Peter Parker flirts with him. Rating will change.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 184





	Mess Up My Room And Proceed To Tempt Me

**Author's Note:**

> Normally, people write that Peter feels more confident as Spider-Man, but I thought it would be cool to do an angle where he feels confident to say dumb stuff as Peter Parker, because he can act like a fool without jeopardising Spider-Man's reputation.

> Milk
> 
> Eggs 
> 
> Ramen
> 
> Toothpaste
> 
> Toilet paper
> 
> Fabric softener

Peter squinted down at his list with the sun in his eyes. Whenever he contemplated buying groceries, he was reminded of his initial horror of how much basic items cost. As a child, he’d been distantly aware of hushed conversations between his aunt and uncle about bills, and food and paychecks, but they’d just been that: conversations. Words, intangible murmurs and every morning, there had been a plate of food placed in front of him, something delicious, lovingly cooked by May. It was only when he was living alone that he realised how expensive everything was. He recalled a meme he’d read once that said something like: _You work eight hours a day, five days a week, just so you can pay rent and buy washing detergent._ Welp, that’s capitalism. Between working at the _Bugle_ and patrolling, he barely had time to pursue an education. It was more expensive living in his own apartment and commuting to college, but he couldn’t risk living with roommates: what if they caught him sneaking in the window in the middle of the night? What if they discovered his super suit or his web slingers? What if they finally made the connection that whenever Spider-Man appears, Peter Parker goes MIA?

Sometimes, he envied people like Tony Stark. He enjoyed a rich, lavish lifestyle without needing to hide his extra abilities. Although Peter supposed, Mr. Stark had had to sacrifice his privacy for that. Peter wasn’t ready to show New York the face behind the red and blue mask. He wasn’t sure he’d ever ready for that.

He was conjuring up a mental map of the shops he’d need to visit, trying to work out the logical route when he suddenly smacked into something and fell backwards. He landed flat on his ass, blinking up at the obstacle, realising that although it had felt like it, it wasn’t a wall. It was a tall man in a hoody and black sweatpants, a man who was now staring down at Peter in obvious shock.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, man!” the man said, his voice weirdly familiar. Peter jerked his glance away, realising he’d been staring. The guy’s hood was pulled low over his forehead, casting a shadow over his face but not hiding it entirely. His face was...well, he didn’t have the words to describe it. Horrific seemed too cruel a term but it wasn’t exactly a simple blemish, either. Every inch of his skin was pink and scarred. Flushed and dark like uncooked bacon. Maybe he had been in a fire? Peter felt terrible for staring, he’d encountered his fair share of bullies over the years and he never wanted to be the sort of person who would judge somebody on their appearance. It wasn’t how he was brought up. He accepted the hand that was offered to him (covered in a black glove) and let himself be hauled up. The guy was strong. He smiled down at Peter in a gentle fashion. He didn’t seem bothered by Peter’s staring, but perhaps he was used to it. That was a sad thought and Peter felt determined that he make a better impression, not wanting to be the thing that ruins an innocent man’s day.

“It’s fine,” he said and smiled up at the man. He normally was self-conscious about his crooked teeth, but he was trying to be friendly. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Then we’re both at fault. We should probably exchange insurance information!” the guy said drily and Peter burst out laughing. It felt good to laugh like this, it was usually Spider-Man who cracked jokes while his opposition concentrated on shooting him.

Peter’s laughter must have pleased the man because he shot him a Hollywood grin, perfect, straight white teeth flashing against his ruddy skin. _Wow._ He had a great smile. Peter wondered what he’d looked like before the accident and instantly hated himself for thinking that.

His voice was so familiar but Peter was having trouble placing it. The guy was too old for college, and Peter didn’t recall facing him as Spider-Man. Coffee shop? Library? Comic book store?

“I’m Wade. Wade Wilson.” the man said and Peter felt his smile slide off his face like mud.

Deadpool. That was Deadpool’s voice! Peter smiled and nodded, but inwardly, he was reeling. It had to be him, nobody had that sleek, buttery voice. He observed the guy (who was still chattering on) with a critical eye.

 **Same height?** Check

 **Same build?** Hard to tell with the baggy hoody and pants but it looked about right.

 **Same voice?** Double check.

Well, this explained why DP always turned away from Peter when they were enjoying post-patrol tacos. Peter just assumed he was a sloppy eater and embarrassed about it but it was actually, he was embarrassed about--

Wade was babbling on about something, word-vomiting like an old lady in a supermarket who talks the cashier’s ear off. Peter wondered if Wade/Deadpool got the opportunity to talk to people in his day-to-day life. He always assumed Deadpool’s chattiness was a strange gimmick, ‘The Merc With a Mouth’ and all that, but perhaps he was lonely and needed an outlet. Peter liked hanging with ‘Pool, the merc never asked too much of him. He’d jabber on and Peter could sit there and listen, laugh at his jokes. Peter was always more of a listener than a talker, anyway.

Wade was now looking at him expectantly, that lightbulb grin had dimmed a few watts. Peter blushed and tried to clear his head. “I’m so sorry, I just zonked out for, like, a minute. What were you saying?”

Wade wasn’t offended. “It’s okay I was telling you about the time Ryan Reynolds fell on my lap in a crowded Arby’s a few years back. Almost choked on my gyro.”

Peter laughed, harder this time, able to picture it perfectly. Somehow, the vision was enhanced by the knowledge that it was Deadpool who had had the celebrity encounter.

Wade ducked his head, grinning awkwardly as Peter guffawed. Peter felt more comfortable knowing that this stranger was indeed his good friend, so he clapped a hand on Wade’s back as he straightened up, letting the last dregs of mirth leave his lips.

Wade flinched but didn’t shrug off Peter’s hand, and instead smiled down at him, a little shyly, Peter thought.

“Oh my god, Wade. I’ve never met anybody famous. Unless the mayor counts?”

“You’ve met the mayor? That’s cool, how did that happen?”

 _Oh crap, it was Spider-Man who met the mayor. Think of a lie, fast._ “I, um, had to take his picture for the paper.”

“Oh, which paper?”

“ _The Daily Bugle,_ ” Peter said and the air chilled by a few degrees.

“Oh, that rag. Huh.” Wade’s movie star grin was gone, replaced by firm, unyielding lips and an eyebrowless scowl. Peter shivered, he’d never considered Deadpool to be ‘scary’ before, but then, that anger had never been directed at him before. Wade didn’t look angry, _per se_ , but he certainly didn’t look friendly.

“You...don’t like the _Bugle?_ ”

“Your editor has a vendetta against Spider-Man. You publish these gross articles about him, making him out to be a chaotic maniac, acting like he’s the reason shit is so bad around here. It’s not _his_ fault, he’s trying to _save_ this city, not destroy it. If I was him, I’d burn your paper to the ground. But Spidey wouldn’t do that because he’s _better_ than that. He’s better than all the ungrateful turds in New York.”

Peter swallowed, hating himself at that moment. Hating the paper, hating the way he’d had to degrade himself, tarnish Spider-Man’s reputation for years just to -- what? Earn a few measly dollars a month so he wouldn’t lose his apartment. When he’d first joined the _Bugle_ , he’d tried convincing Jameson of Spider-Man’s innocence. Subtly, of course. But Jameson was a stubborn man, and Peter had realised that the man didn’t like to be corrected or convinced of anything. It hadn’t been worth it to try harder at changing his mind and besides, Peter needed the job. He knew if he had a ‘fuck you’ moment and quit, Jameson would find a new replacement faster than the line moved at Queens Job Center. When had Peter become that disillusioned? Had he not cared about Spider-Man’s image, surrendering any respect for a miserable paycheck?

Wade was still glowering at him and Peter’s eyes burned with budding tears, wishing that he could lean up and whisper in Wade’s ear who he really was. He could imagine it, the shock, that sculpted jaw falling comically open, Wade’s wide, doglike eyes flickering over Peter’s face as he pieced it together and then the jubilant _‘Spidey!’_ as Wade picked him up and swung him around in a hug. Deadpool was a touchy-feely guy, always jokily hip-checking Peter or slugging him on the shoulder, trying to hug him. But _this_ Deadpool, Wade Wilson was staring at Peter as if he was a bad person. Peter felt an unexpected tug at his heart, touched by Wade’s passion. Deadpool had been tagging along on patrol for months now and had said he wanted to change and become more like Spider-Man, but Peter hadn’t been entirely convinced. He hadn’t believed that Deadpool would be able to limit himself to no-killing (or less killing) and had assumed Deadpool would grow tired of the routine. But apparently, Spider-Man’s teachings had had more of an effect on the merc than Peter had known.

“I’m not, I mean, we don’t all feel that way about Spider-Man,” Peter whispered and Wade’s expression cleared a fraction. “I respect him, I know he’s doing the right thing. I just, I need this job, you know? And he -- he lets me take the pictures…” Peter said and took a gamble. “You can ask him. If you see him. Ask him if he knows Peter Parker.”

“I will.” Wade said. Peter knew that was a promise.

“I should go but, um, it was nice meeting you, Wade.”

“You too, Peter.” Wade said. If he’d been talking to Spider-Man, he would have blown him a kiss like a faded Hollywood starlet, but as far as Wade knew, he was talking to a stranger, so he turned and walked away.

Peter watched him blend into the crowd, fighting the childish urge to follow him.


End file.
